Although that would suggest that he was powerless and she was deliberately luring him, when the truth was that they were equal victims to this all-consuming attraction that crackled between them.
Not that his current state of fury at himself would allow him to admit that much aloud.
‘You’re a distraction, Isla,’ he ground out instead. ‘And I don’t do distractions.’
He knew the moment he spoke the words that they were a mistake. They revealed far too many things that he would much rather have kept to himself.
He watched as Isla’s eyes widened then crinkled, seeing his unexpected weakness for herself.
It was galling.
‘Is that so?’ She arched her eyebrows. ‘How flattering that I’m a distraction. I wouldn’t have thought that the savagely determined Nikhil Dara would have allowed anything to sway him.’
‘I didn’t say that I intended to allow anything to sway me,’ he bit back.
‘And yet here we are. With you taking time to drag me to your office just to kiss me and then tell me...what? That you don’t intend to waste time being distracted by me?’
She had a point, but that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst of it was that he—who had prided himself on control and restraint all these years—was now fighting the considerable urge to silence her with his mouth—again—whilst he stripped them both and worshipped her body the way he’d been dreaming about doing since he’d walked away from her hotel room.
It certainly didn’t help that she wanted him every bit as badly. He knew women well enough to see it in the lines of her body. He could read it in every dark flash of her eyes, every deep breath she inhaled, every time she flicked her tongue out over her lips.
And every single one of her reactions only served to stoke that fire even higher, making it burn hotter and brighter until he feared his entire body might burst into flame.
It was ludicrous.
They’d had sex, just as he’d had sex with women before. Not an obscene amount of women—not like some of the officers he knew, who seemed incapable of preventing their trousers from ruling their heads, on practically a daily basis—but still, he didn’t do repeat performances. It wasn’t worth the hassle.
Which only made it all the more infuriating that he couldn’t seem to shake this woman from his head. He wanted her.
His body needed her. And that simply wouldn’t do.
He would stay away from Dr Isla Sinclair if it killed him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE BANANA PLANTATION was vast and dense, bustling with people. Isla followed the local tour guide with fascination, watching as men chopped down enormous clusters of bananas, already wrapped in plastic bagging.
‘Did you know it isn’t really a banana tree but a banana plant?’
She turned slowly to face Nikhil, her heart hammering so loudly in her chest that it was surely impossible that he couldn’t hear it.
One moment she’d been rather enjoying her tour of one of Ecuador’s—and apparently the world’s—biggest producer of organic bananas, learning about hands and fingers and tiers, and watching as the workers loaded enormous bagged bunches onto a rail system, and the next she found herself face to face with the person she’d been trying so hard to shove out of her head.
It had been almost a week since their encounter in Nikhil’s office, and she’d been congratulating herself on having managed to keep her distance from him.
Or at least she’d told herself that she ought to be congratulating herself.
She’d told herself that she didn’t feel anything remotely akin to regret that things had turned out the way they had. Turning something that had been so electrifying and fun that night in Chile into something infinitely uglier. And sombre.
With such thoughts whirling around her brain, Isla wasn’t sure how she managed to tug her expression into something she hoped was a light, airy expression.
‘Mr Dara, what a surprise. I thought we were keeping our distance from each other. Or, more accurately, that I was to keep my distance from you.’ Her voice sounded remarkably even. ‘According to you, I’m too much of a distraction.’
She had no idea how she managed to infuse her words with condemnation, but she found she was rather proud of herself. Still, if she could have bound her erratic heart down with ropes and chains, she would have done.
‘You are a distraction,’ he replied easily. ‘How else do you explain the fact that, instead of concentrating on the tour, I’m talking to you?’
‘Perhaps you have a childlike attention span?’ she quipped. ‘I’ve inherited all the tours and duties of the doctor who I’ve replaced, and I’m here as the medical liaison in the event of any accident. Why are you here?’